Or the Look Or the Words
by LullabyKnell
Summary: Goblet of Fire AU: The change in their relationship happens during 4th year, when an exhausted and dateless Harry groans out the important question, "Why can't we just go together?" - Pure Harry/Ron fluff for a 5 AU Headcanons prompt.


**Author's** **Notes** : This is a fluffy, feel-good, everything-is-lovely-and-nothing-hurts, completely AU, canon-divergent one-shot in seven short parts. I opened my askbox to pairing suggestions for short fics and Harry/Ron was the first one, and I'm glad, because writing this was a ton of fun. This is probably how I'd start them, as a pairing for a more serious fic, except this is shortened and overview-ish and therefore definitely different than how I would actually. Featuring several unimportant background pairings, and the beginnings of the adorableness that would be Harry/Ron.

This work was originally posted to my account on AO3.

Tags on AO3: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Universe Alteration, Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen or Pre-Slash, Yule Ball, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Goblet of Fire AU, Gryffindor Common Room, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, 5+ AU Headcanons, Brief Mention of Underage Drinking, Oblivious Harry Potter, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person Limited, First Kiss

* * *

oOo

* * *

OR THE LOOK OR THE WORDS

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **1\. The change in their relationship happens during fourth year, when an exhausted and dateless Harry groans out the important question, "Why can't we just go _together_?" **

* * *

oOo

* * *

He meant it in the sense that the two of them just go stag together, a pair of friends without dates. He meant it as in him ditching all his champion responsibilities and going to a school dance to actually have _fun_ with his best mates, instead of being paraded around for everyone to gawk at.

"That'd really make 'em talk," Ron says with a snort. "Merlin, that'd be _so much_ easier than this fuckery. We even kind of already practiced too."

During the Gryffindor dance lessons, Harry and Ron had partnered together for most of it, when one of them hadn't been partnered with Hermione. They'd been pretty good actually. Harry hadn't been afraid to stomp right back on Ron's foot and Ron hadn't been petrified like he'd been with Professor McGonagall; and they were used to moving around together. They knew each other.

Harry stops to think about it and... you know what? It would be pretty great to go to the Yule Ball with his best mate - someone he actually knows and trusts and can talk to, and doesn't have to worry about revealing too much to because Ron's already seen his absolute worst bedheads and more.

"It'd be a giant 'fuck you' to the Tournament people, too," Ron muses. "Old blowhards."

There's also that. And it's really tempting, because Ludo Bagman is kind of a sleaze and Harry can't think of anything more enjoyable than introducing Ron as his date to Mr. Crouch. ("I'm sorry, Mr. Crouch," he'd say, "but where in your 'oh-so-important and completely unbendable' rules does it say that I cannot bring my best friend to your dumb mandatory dance?")

Harry looks over towards Ron, trying not to smile. "We really shouldn't," he says.

Ron is already grinning a savage and daring sort of grin. "Oh, we _really_ should," he says.

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **2\. Hermione stares unblinkingly for a straight minute when they tell her.**

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Well," she says finally.

Then she trails off and just sort of stares for a while longer, before clearing her throat again and saying pragmatically, "That's a… solution. And you won't be alone, of course, because Lavender and Parvati are going together. And Anthony finally asked Wayne Hopkins, I heard, from Su Li, despite his father's disap…"

"Is that what all the shrieking was over at Hufflepuff's table yesterday?" Harry wonders.

Ron shrugs at him, because he doesn't keep track of what Hermione's Ravenclaw study buddies do either.

Hermione ignores them and clears her throat again. "Just to… be clear on this… um, how long has _this_ been going on? Exactly. I mean, if I'm being invasive, you of course don't have to tell me, but, um, I just never really suspected that there was… more than friendship?"

Harry and Ron exchange a horrified look.

"Hermione," Ron says calmly, "we're going as _friends._ "

"Oh."

"Lavender and Parvati are _dating_?" Harry wonders, mildly stunned, because all that cuddling and giggling in the common room makes so much more sense now.

He didn't know… he didn't really know you could do that. Of course, he was now going to the Yule Ball with a boy, but it was kind of a joke, and… you could do that? Suddenly so much of everything made a new and enlightened sense; Katie Bell's 'girlfriend' Sarah was her _girlfriend_ and Harry understands _so many_ of the jokes and advice Angelina and the twins gave the red-faced and sputtering Chaser now. Oh, Merlin.

"…Mate, how the fuck did you not know that?" Ron says disbelievingly.

"I have no idea," Harry says, as his mind ignores his screaming refusals and drags him off to wonder about his godfather's latest letter. Because there had been an _awful lot_ of references to and rambling about Professor Lupin. An _awful lot._

"Well," Hermione says again, cheeks pink with mild embarrassment. "Alright. I'm very sorry for assuming, then. I didn't mean to make anything awkward or-"

"'S'fine," Ron says dismissively, still staring at Harry with disbelief. "Seriously, mate, _how?_ You were _right there_ when Seamus asked Lavender if she'd ever thought about having both twins."

"I thought he meant being _friends_ with them," Harry says, aghast.

Ron and Hermione both stare disbelievingly at him now, like they just cannot comprehend how Harry ever could have thought Seamus' question could have been that innocent. And yeah, in hindsight, that makes way more sense. Especially with how Dean looked like he'd wanted to expire of embarrassment on the spot and Lavender had immediately hexed Seamus.

"I'm going to the Ball with a _brick wall,_ " Ron groans.

"Hey!"

"You two suit each other," Hermione says decisively, and finally disappears back into her book.

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **3\. With having his best friend back and a date for the Yule Ball, Harry is loving life.**

* * *

oOo

* * *

It's hard to feel stressed anymore when he feels on top of the whole damn world. He's got his best mate back at his side, a great date for that dance he thought he was going to hate, and a delighted 'fuck you' to any adult who wants to tell him he's doing his involuntary participation wrong. He's going to have _fun_ for once.

Draco Malfoy has tried to get an outburst out of Harry this week (including but not limited to) by: 1) insulting his performance in the First Task for the nth time, 2) making predictions towards Harry's horrific death in future tasks for the nth time, and 3) commenting loudly on Harry's apparent lack of date for the nth time. Harry just laughed at him and he's never seen Malfoy look so startled and unhappy. (Malfoy's _face_ is going to be _so good_ when Harry and Ron walk into the Ball together.)

They've been keeping their dance partners secret for maximum impact when they show up. Hermione knows, of course, because they couldn't not tell her. Fred and George figured it out and laughed for five whole minutes, then promised not to tell anyone because they thought it was hilarious. (Last Harry heard, they were begging a camera off Colin Creevey for the night. Fred's reasoning is that they'll seriously be disowned by their mother and two eldest brothers if they don't get pictures of Harry and Ron dancing the night away together.)

Ginny also figured it out and she, like Hermione, is torn between slight judgement and amused approval. Neville also probably knows, because Ginny's going with Neville and they've been practicing their dancing on weekends out by the Herbology sheds. Harry, Ron, Hermione join them and Ginny's friends sometimes. (Neville is _really good_ at this dancing thing.)

Ron seems equally happy, if not more so. The date thing was _really_ stressing him out and he says that even if he wasn't doing this for himself, he'd be more than glad to do it for Harry after those stupid weeks of fighting.

(Harry's told Ron that he doesn't have to do anything to make up for that. He understands why Ron was upset and now suspects that Ron might have been slightly scared for some reason. But that hasn't stopped Ron was being a little overly considerate with him – holding open doors, serving him at meals, getting stuff for him from their dorm or off shelves, slowing that _stupidly_ long-legged gait down, etc.)

It gets to the point where McGonagall holds Harry back after class one day, staring at him with clear and forceful suspicion. Harry is nervous to the point where his smile, which has been perpetual for days, actually falters under her interrogating gaze.

"Mister Potter, have you found a date for the Yule Ball?"

"Yes," Harry says.

McGonagall's brows raise in surprise at his quick response and then immediately go back down. Harry flushes under the intense look.

"I really do," he says. "I'm not lying."

"I did not suggest that you were, Mister Potter," McGonagall says, a warmth slowly overtaking her gaze. "I am glad to hear that you are taking your responsibilities as a champion of Hogwarts seriously."

Er, yeah.

For the first time since coming up with the plan, Harry feels a vague sense of guilt. It's one thing to bring his best mate to the Ball in the face of Bagman's questions about the 'lovely lady' that ' _the_ Hogwarts champion' is bringing. It's another thing in the face of Crouch's not-meant-to-be-overheard comment to his assistant, said in the hallway after a tournament meeting, that he expects to see three _proper_ young ladies and a decent young gentleman from their champions, ideally from good families but he'd take at least well-behaved rabble if he had to. (Crouch hadn't seen it, but Harry, eavesdropping and peering around the corner, had caught a glimpse of the incredulousness on Percy's face at the statement.)

But to Professor McGonagall? Who only wants the best for him, Gryffindor, and Hogwarts? His fun, rebellious date with his best mate might reflect badly on her somehow, and he feels bad about that. He doesn't want to change his plans, but… he doesn't want to disappoint her.

"You may go, Mister Potter," she says, lips twitching. "And give my best to Mister Weasley."

Harry gives her an incredulous look.

McGonagall's stare is nothing less than all-knowing. "I'm glad to hear you've been practicing your waltz for the opening dance. Your teacher says you've both been making excellent progress."

* * *

oOo

* * *

("Neville! You told _McGonagall?!_ "

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! She gave me tea and made me eat a biscuit and I couldn't help it!")

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **4\. A few days before the dance, Ron pulls Harry aside to a quiet corner of the common room.**

* * *

oOo

* * *

The words are still ringing in Harry's head as he goes. _Mate, I need to talk to you._

Does… does he not want to… anymore…?

"So, uh, look, I may have… forgotten myself and made a mistake – another mistake – and you're totally allowed to get mad at me if you like," Ron says to begin with, which doesn't at all help the frantic pounding in Harry's chest. "I was just out picking up Hermione's Christmas present from Goldstein, and, uh, I sort of ran into Fleur."

Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, extremely beautiful and talented part-Veela witch. Only the person who Ron has been quietly mooning over whenever he sees them. He hasn't said anything or visibly stared since before Harry became champion, but Harry's still caught Ron sending a few sidelong glances towards Fleur whenever she walks by – admiring and wistful.

"She was alone and she looked upset," Ron continues, desperately watching Harry's face. "So I stopped and… tried to comfort her and…" He takes a deep breath and then says very quickly, "May have told her that we're going together. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell anyone."

Harry blinks, then manages, "…What?"

"Uh, alright, um…" Ron runs a hand through his red hair, looking quite stressed. "Maybe I'd better start from the, um… So it turns out that Fleur doesn't have a date yet – unbelievable, right, mate? I think, from what she said, that she's just not interested in anyone? She doesn't want anyone to get any ideas, or something, so I… I kinda suggested that she go with one of her friends? And I sorta fucked up by admitting that we were going together, and I don't know if she's going to tell anyone but she gave me this _look_ and then I… I sorta ran away, but… Harry, I'm sorry."

It takes Harry a moment to clear the block in his throat, in which Ron looks increasingly upset and stressed. "…It's alright," Harry assures him, as soon as he can speak again. "No, really, Ron, mate, it's fine. I'm not mad."

Ron deflates, tension leaking out of his shoulders. "You're… you're not?"

"No, I'm not. I don't care if she tells everyone; they might not even believe her. It's just…" Harry gives a quiet, nervous laugh. "I thought you were going to tell me you'd asked _her_ to the Ball and she'd said yes."

"Oh, Merlin, fuck, no," Ron says, looking horrified. "I mean, some part of me almost… but… I'm going with _you,_ Harry. I mean, I said I would and I want to, and I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, I know. It's just… for a moment…"

A wry sort of smile crosses Ron's face. "Yeah, I know," he says. "Me too."

Harry smiles back, the worried ache in his chest gone.

Ron's smile widens, before a thought seems to cross his mind. "Wait, you thought Fleur would have actually said _yes_? To _me?_ Harry, what the fuck, that's ridiculous."

"Nah, not that ridiculous," Harry says, grinning as Ron's ears redden at the implied compliment.

"Yes, it is, you nutter," Ron mutters, looking away. "Okay, good. So now that I know you're not mad at me, I'm going to hide this book -" A hand hovers over the rectangular shape hidden under his robe. "- and wrap it before Hermione sees it."

"Alright," Harry says, watching as Ron disappears towards the dormitories.

Crisis averted, he goes back over to the circle of chairs where he was sitting before and picks up the book he was reading. It's called _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ and it's an anonymous author's heartrending account of their life with lycanthropy, published in 1975. Sirius recommended it, saying it helped their friend group all better understand some things. (That it is also incredibly and explicitly… uh… _queer_ does not help Harry's attempts to avoid having questions about his godfather and Professor Lupin.)

Before he can find his paragraph, Harry notices that he's being stared at. Hermione, Dean, and Neville have apparently abandoned their illustrated Herbology essay project in favour of giving him a three-pronged _look_ of what is either concern (Neville) or judgement (Hermione) or what might be both (Dean).

"Is everything alright?" Hermione says finally.

"Yeah," Harry says, more than a little bewildered by their intensity. "Everything's great."

The stark relief on Neville's face and Dean's sudden interest in his work is a little frightening. But not half as frightening as whatever expression crosses Hermione's face as she stares at him.

"Alright then," she says, going back to her writing. "Good."

Harry stares at them all for a minute, to his further bewilderment being steadfastly ignored. Hermione's definitely working, but Neville is staring at a page without even reading it and Harry is fairly certain that Dean is just doodling hearts in the margins of his notes instead of working on their drawing of a Giant Roman Running Radish herd.

For lack of any understanding, he goes back to his book.

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **5\. The day before the Yule Ball comes with one final, significant complication.**

* * *

oOo

* * *

"You can still dump me," Ron volunteers, a distinct note of true hopelessness in his voice. "Ask one of Ginny's friends or something. They'd probably leap at the chance to go."

Harry just keeps staring at the ruffles and lace of Ron's dress robes. How could he forget about those? There is no possible way for him to salvage that into something less hideous. And Ron has already rejected Harry's weak offers to just buy new dress robes for him.

"We need an expert," Harry says decisively.

"Expert?" Ron says.

Harry drags his date's robes off to find an expert, because while _he_ might not know how to Transfigure clothes into something not ugly, he's willing to bet that there's _someone_ in Gryffindor Tower who might know what they're doing. He knows for a fact, for example, that Ginny Weasley actually owns maybe two skirts and knows a wardrobe's worth of charms to subtly modify them.

The sound that Lavender Brown makes when she sees Ron's dress robes is deafening. If Gryffindor Tower were suddenly collapsing, their house's screams could not come _close_ to the shrillness, volume, and absolute horror in Lavender's screech.

"WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?"

"Dress robes," Harry answers, wincing. "We need your help."

Lavender looks him dead in the eye and says, "I'm a _witch,_ Harry, not a _miracle worker._ You can't expect me to make something I'd admit to having a hand in out of _that_. I mean, I have excess materials and such, and there is _plenty_ there to work with, but I'm busy and your mate should've found better robes _earlier_ if-"

"He's my date," Harry says desperately. "I'll owe you for this."

The speech of refusal immediately cuts off and Lavender's eyes narrow. "Huh," she says, "Parbear was right, then. Alright, I want you to distract and run interference with Hermione so Parbear and I can have the dorm to ourselves sometimes. Deal?"

 _I have no idea how I'm supposed to do that_ , Harry doesn't say. _And doesn't she spend all of her waking hours in the library anyway?_ _Why would you need privacy in your dorm… oh… OH._

"Deal," Harry says, only feeling slightly horrified.

It turns out that Lavender Brown is both a witch and miracle worker, because Ron looks amazing. The robes are still sort of old-fashioned, there's still quite a bit of ruffles and lace, but they've been simplified, hemmed and layered over black slacks, and the whole outfit has been tailored to fit Ron perfectly. He looks taller, almost mature, and Lavender actually called him _dashing_ when she forcefully gave him a haircut to suit her handiwork.

Because she couldn't only do one half of the pair, Lavender forcefully got her hands on Harry's dress robes and hair too. He feels rather like he's gone through a whirlwind of trimming and tailoring, but he also feels… good. He feels confident, almost… attractive.

"You're amazing," Ron tells Lavender, genuinely, as they're getting ready for the Ball.

"Thank you," Lavender says, slightly pinked.

"You look great, too," Harry says. "Parvati's really lucky."

Lavender shakes her head, sighing dreamily. " _I'm_ the lucky one, really." Then a sly expression crosses her face. "And I'm not going to be the only lucky one tonight. You two aren't going to believe your eyes when you see Hermione. Do _you_ know who she's going with?"

"Nope," Ron says, straightening his ruffles again. "Wouldn't tell us."

"Darn," Lavender says. "And stop playing with that. Alright, I have to get my make-up done. I'll see you boys down there and _seriously stop playing with those or I'll hex your hands off._ "

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **6\. As it turns out, Harry was right, and the looks on people's faces as they descend the stairs arm in arm are _amazing._**

* * *

oOo

* * *

"I could die happy tonight," Ron murmurs. "Look at Malfoy's _face._ "

Harry is looking and he too could die happy tonight. Malfoy looks like he did when Hermione socked him in the face, only the moment's been frozen to last several minutes. Harry makes sure to wave at him, grinning, and Malfoy looks like he was hit with a Confundus, a Stunner, and an Obliviate all at once. One look at him and it's already the best night of Harry's life.

Especially because Fred and George are there, both wearing their dress robes and wicked smirks, and George has Colin Creevey's camera around his neck. Fred is pointing out faces for George to get pictures of, since they've already taken several pictures of Harry and Ron, and Malfoy's is one of the first on the list.

Behind the twins, their dates, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan, look unsurprised and amused at their antics.

Harry and Ron breeze past Malfoy and head straight for Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, already waiting where the champions were told to gather. Cedric is grinning broadly at the both of them and Cho has a hand over her mouth at the expressions Harry and Ron are leaving behind them, trying and failing to hide her laughter.

"Hey, Cedric," Harry greets.

"Harry," Cedric returns, obviously absolutely delighted to exist in this moment. "And Ron! The two of you look stunning together."

"Thanks," Harry says proudly. "Hi, Cho. You look really nice."

"Thank you. You as well," Cho says, smiling.

Before they can say much more than that, Viktor Krum joins them. "Diggory, Potter, you are looking vell," he says, to which they return the greeting, and then he turns to Ron. "Mister Veasley, I believe? I did not know that you two vere together. Congratulations."

Ron sputters in the face of his Quidditch hero talking to him, but thankfully Viktor has already turned to be properly introduced to Cho. Harry pats his date on the arm, while Ron attempts to breathe normally because _oh my fuck, it's Viktor Krum._

There's no time, unfortunately, to correct Viktor on Harry and Ron's relationship, because that's when Hermione appears at the top of the stairs, an absolute vision in periwinkle blue. She doesn't look like Hermione at all, Lavender was right. Viktor's face breaks out into a wide smile at the sight of her and he immediately excuses himself to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

There are still people staring at Harry and Ron together, but most of them are now gawking at Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum smiling at each other. And Harry is too busy to notice any staring because he's gawking too and Ron has a _fucking death grip_ on his arm. ("Harry, Hermione's date is _Krum._ " "I can _see_ that, Ron, stop trying to _choke my arm._ ")

Viktor rejoins them, beaming with a flushed Hermione on his arm, and there's another round of exclamations over how nice everyone looks. The crowd's staring really starts to get annoying then, but Cedric awkwardly regales them all with his humorous misadventures learning to dance and Cho's incredible patience with him. Everyone is quickly put at ease.

Unfortunately, the ease ends when Professor McGonagall joins them, wearing elegant red dress robes, with Ludo Bagman on her heels in a goldish-looking suit. McGonagall expression is brimming with pride and approval at her students, but Bagman gapes at Harry and Ron.

"Excellent, we've almost everyone," McGonagall says, before a word can come out of Bagman's open mouth. "You all look wonderful; I am proud to see such wonderful young witches and wizards representing our schools."

Bagman's mouth opens and closes like a fish. Ron's arm goes tense and tight around Harry's, who presses closer to his best mate in the face of Bagman's obvious disapproval. But before Bagman can say anything, Professor McGonagall's moves onward, trampling him in her wake.

"We will begin the Yule Ball with its traditional opening dance, which will be a waltz," McGonagall says.

Then, uncharacteristically and out of nowhere, she says conversationally, "I have never been much for the waltz, but my younger brother and his husband adore it. They danced for half the night at their wedding, it seemed."

And then she turns on the man beside her, like a barely contained tempest in red dress robes.

"Do you waltz, Mr. Bagman?" she says, her voice still conversational but her face hard.

She stares at him so intensely that her eyes seem to say, _'I graded your first year essays, once upon a time. Do not test me on this. You will fail like you failed all my pop quizzes.'_

"Ah…" Bagman says, quailing under that stare. "Not particularly well, I'm afraid!"

"What a shame," McGonagall says, witheringly, before she turned back to the awestruck champions watching this display. "Has anyone seen Miss Delacour and her date?"

Cedric, who has been grinning broadly all this while, seems to spot something in the crowd. "I think that's them now, professor," he says.

They all turn to see Fleur Delacour and her date carving a path through the crowd like sharks through water. The Beauxbatons champion is a breathtaking sight of blonde and silver, and on her arm is a short, curvaceous, dark-haired and swarthy witch in bronze. They put every couple around them to absolute shame.

Harry grins up at Ron. "So that's why she didn't say anything. Guess she took your advice."

Ron swallows, staring disbelievingly. "I guess," he says weakly.

The others' reactions are also pretty great. Viktor's eyebrows are really high, Hermione's eyes are wide, Cedric is grinning again, and Cho is blatantly checking out… the dress? McGonagall, meanwhile, is nearly _beaming_ and Bagman's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head.

"Sorry we are late," Fleur says, once she reaches them. "I would like to introduce my date and good friend, Joséphine Béchard." There is not a hint of shame in her eyes, but rather a challenging glint daring anyone to comment. Her grin is very sharp.

No one does dare to challenge her and Ron actually manages to calm down enough to be the first one to greet Fleur's friend. Harry can't bring himself to stop grinning, chest bubbling with pride and happiness. He doesn't even notice that he's been smiling so strongly until halfway through the new introductions and compliments, when Bagman excuses himself to run away into the Great Hall, red-faced and clearly far out of his depth, to announce the opening dance

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Mr. Crouch was too ill to attend the Yule Ball. But Harry's sure he would have been pleased, after all, that the champions attended with three lovely young ladies and a very decent young gentleman.

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **7\. To be honest, the Yule Ball between the opening dance and the end is almost a blur for Harry. It passes by far too quickly; time is flying and he can't stop laughing.**

* * *

oOo

* * *

The few moments before the opening dance started were nerve-wracking. Harry almost froze up, but then Ron grinned at him and Harry grinned back, and they were whirling about the dance floor well enough to make Neville beam with pride. (Harry saw him, actually, and Neville really was beaming with pride, before he and Ginny swept onto the floor.)

Dancing is really fun, actually. Harry and Ron whirl around the Great Hall for a few songs, switching who leads once or twice a song, twirling each other around. During the last song, when Ron was leading, he actually _dipped_ Harry and Harry almost shrieked.

Then they switch it up, a lot. Harry dances with Hermione a few times, and then with Cho, Viktor, Cedric, Fleur, and Joséphine at least once each. He also dances with Ginny and Lavender, both of the twins, Angelina, Lee, and then Neville because why not. By the time they finally stumble off to actually eat something, Harry's head is a whirl of music and steps, and he has the taste of liquid courage leftover on his lips, because Joséphine carries a flask and apparently Beauxbatons kids don't call it a party unless there's a good potion or drink flowing.

(It turns out that Fleur and Joséphine arrived already kind of buzzed, Viktor can drink whatever poison is in that flask like water, Hufflepuffs are readily and scarily game for _anything_ , and Harry's curiosity and knack for trouble is perfectly happy try a sip or two. Despite Hermione's disapproving glare. It's not like he hasn't had a sip of stuff before, what with Gryffindor Quidditch after-parties being what they are.)

He thinks Percy might have been glaring at him and Ron, but he wasn't paying attention. He also thinks Malfoy might have tried to insult them at some point, but he wasn't paying attention then either, except to notice that his not paying attention really seemed to piss Malfoy off.

After some food and drinks (which Harry is pretty sure was at least slightly spiked courtesy of the Weasley twins), they head back onto the dance floor until they have to stumble off it again. Ron's comments on the looks they were getting made Harry laugh so hard that he couldn't see or walk straight, so they had to leave before they were kicked off.

Together, they wander laughingly off towards the courtyard for some fresh air and quiet.

"This," Ron says, leaning with happy tiredness against their bench's column, "was a great idea."

Harry hums in agreement from where he's leaning against Ron. They've tucked themselves away in a corner of the courtyard, mostly out of sight and with a great view of the couples and groups tottering in and out of the castle. They can hear the faint music of the Yule Ball inside and will probably rejoin the dance soon, because it's kind of cold out, but this is nice for now.

"Can you imagine if we'd had to find other dates?" Ron says, amused.

Harry laughs and says, "Not really. I think that would have been a _disaster_."

"Yeah, probably," Ron says agreeably. "Real fucking disaster. But… who do you think you would have actually asked, you know? To be your real date?"

It takes Harry several seconds to really register what Ron's saying and his brow furrows with the thought. Real date? He tries to imagine going to the Yule Ball with anyone else, but he can't; he can't even imagine who else he'd go with. He can't imagine anyone else as fun and amazing and funny and good as Ron Weasley.

He pulls away from Ron enough to look up at him, really look up at his best friend. Ron looks down at him, confused but smiling, slightly tired but dashing, without doubt the best person to ever happen to him.

Reaching up, Harry sits tall, brings Ron face down, and kisses him.

He doesn't know what he's doing - he didn't even give himself time to consider how he might regret this or what it might do to their friendship - it's just lips pressed together and the taste of punch pretty much. At least, at the beginning, but as Ron stops being startled and settles his arms around Harry like they're dancing again, then kisses him back, it becomes more. And Harry quickly finds out that Ron doesn't really know what he's doing either. It's good, though, whatever they're doing together.

So they keep doing it.

* * *

oOo

* * *

END

* * *

oOo

* * *

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, **or the look or the words** , which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

\- Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice_

* * *

oOo

* * *

 **Author's** **Notes:** I really wouldn't do that with the Weasley twins lurking around with a camera, boys.


End file.
